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Now that I'm home, bathed, settled and fed,
All nicely tucked in my warm new bed,
I'd like to open my baggage,
Lest I forget,
There is so much to carry,
So much to regret.
Hmmm...Yes, there it is, right on the top,
Let's unpack Loneliness, Heartache and Loss,
And there by my perch hides Fear and Shame.
As I look on these things I tried so hard to leave,
I still have to unpack my baggage called Pain.
I loved them, the others, the ones who left me,
But I wasn't good enough - for they didn't want me.
Will you add to my baggage?
Will you help me unpack?
Or will you just look at my things,
And take me right back?
Do you have the time to help me unpack?
To put away my baggage, to never repack?
I pray that you do - I'm so tired you see,
But I do come with baggage,
Will you still want me?
I'm getting on in years,
My coat is turning gray.
My eyes have lost their luster,
My hearing's just okay.
I spend my day dreaming
Of conquests in my past,
Lying near a sunny window
Waiting for its warm repast.
I remember our first visit,
I was coming to you free,
Hoping you would take me in
And keep me company.
I wasn't young or handsome,
Two years I'd roamed the street.
There were scars upon my face,
I hobbled on my feet.
I could sense your disappointment
As I left my prison cage.
Oh, I hoped you would accept me
And look beyond my age.
You took me out of pity,
I accepted without shame.
Then you grew to love me,
And I admit the same.
I have shared with you your laughter,
You have wet my fur with tears.
We've come to know each other
Throughout these many years.
Just one more hug this morning
Before you drive away,
And know I'll think about you
Throughout your busy day.
The time we've left together
Is a treasured time at that.
My heart is yours forever.
I Promise - This old cat.
I wish someone would tell me what is it that I've done wrong.
Why do I have to stay outside in the rain and be left alone so long?
They seemed so glad to have me when I came here as a kitten.
There were so many things we'd do while I was growing up.
The Master said he'd love me as a companion and a friend.
The Mistress said she'd never fear to be left alone again.
The children said they'd feed me and brush me every day.
They'd play with me and walk me if I would only stay.
But now the Master hasn't time, the Mistress says I shed.
She doesn't want me in the house, not even to be fed.
The Children never pet me; they always say, "Not now"
I wish that I could please them. Won't someone tell me how?
All I had, you see, was love.
I wish they would explain
Why they said they wanted mine,
And then left it outside in the rain.
Training your human is a thankless task.
"Why bother with it?", some kittens may ask.
The fate of the world is the issue at hand,
as felines worldwide stake a claim for their land.
Make no bones about it, we cats own the joint.
We spray in the corners to drive home the point.
Some say the meek shall inherit the Earth,
But they've no fangs or claws, for what that's worth.
The cat is the ultimate species, you see,
We're poised to usurp man's authority.
These silly old humans who cannot play nice!
We cats are peaceful, we hate only mice.
Just what does training your human entail?
A host of fun things you must do without fail:
The sofas and rugs need a little makeover.
The La-Z-Boy's target for kitty takeover.
Then sleep on clean towels placed in the guest bath.
And make their best clothing a target of wrath.
Tear down those new drapes with a quick forceful tug.
Then tatter the pile of the new Berber rug.
And when they are sleeping, you block off their nose,
paw at their lower lip, chew on their toes.
Strut on the mantle. If they give any flack,
knock down their trophies and all bric-a-brac.
Shed on mom's new velvet black evening gown,
as she's headed out for a night on the town.
If they leave you home all alone for the night,
(Any human doing this can't be all that bright),
They're telling you by leaving, it's perfectly all right,
To totally redecorate 'til dawn's early light.
Knock over tables and chew up the fern.
Hurry, go faster! Soon, they'll return...
When they try to punish, you mustn't show concern.
(All attempts of discipline a pussycat should spurn.)
A snide flick of tail will convey no remorse,
but they will try harder to scold you, of course!
So, hide in the closet until they forget,
and then launch out just like an F-14 jet.
Tear up their ankle, their forearm, their hand,
then when they've had all the pain they can stand,
dart from the room while they call 9-1-1,
and celebrate victory: The felines have won!
To humans, however, the battle's begun,
as they steep in their anger and wish for a gun.
Pathetic and lumbering and clumsy to boot,
My friend, human dominance is really a hoot.
Take charge in your home. It's destiny, meow.
(The verses above have already told how.)
So sleep for an hour, and then grab some chow,
And then train your human, beginning right now.
Author Unknown
Two cats (Diamond Cut Diamond)
Two Cats
One up a tree
One under the tree
The cat up a tree is he
The cat under the tree is she
The tree is witch elm, just incidentally.
He takes no notice of she, she takes no notice of he.
He stares at the woolly clouds passing, she stares at the tree.
There's been a lot written about cats, by Old Possum, Yeats and Company
But not Alfred de Musset or Lord Tennyson or Poe or anybody
Wrote about one cat under, and one cat up, a tree.
God knows why this should be left for me
Except I like cats as cats be
Especially one cat up
And one cat under
A witch elm
Tree.
Ewart Milne (1903-1987)
Cats Sleep Anywhere
Cats sleep anywhere, any table, any chair.
Top of piano, window-ledge, in the middle, on the edge.
Open drawer, empty shoe, anybody's lap will do.
Fitted in a cardboard box, in the cupboard with your frocks.
Anywhere! They don't care! Cats sleep anywhere.
Eleanor Farjeon (1881 - 1965)
The Kitten And The Falling Leaves
That way look, my infant, lo!
What a pretty baby-show!
See the kitten on the wall,
sporting with the leaves that fall.
Withered leaves - one - two and three
from the lofty elder tree.
Though the calm and frosty air,
of this morning bright and fair.
Eddying round and round they sink,
softly, slowly; one might think.
From the motions that are made,
every little leaf conveyed
Sylph or Faery hither tending,
to this lower world descending.
Each invisible and mute,
in his wavering parachute.
But the Kitten, how she starts,
crouches, stretches, paws, and darts!
First at one, and then its fellow,
just as light and just as yellow.
There are many now - now one,
now they stop and there are none:
What intenseness of desire,
in her upward eye of fire!
With a tiger-leap half-way,
now she meets the coming prey.
lets it go as fast, and then;
Has it in her power again.
Now she works with three or four,
like an Indian conjuror;
quick as he in feats of art,
far beyond in joy of heart.
Where her antics played in the eye,
of a thousand standers-by,
clapping hands with shout and stare,
what would little Tabby care!
For the plaudits of the crowd?
Over happy to be proud,
over wealthy in the treasure
of her exceeding pleasure!
William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
St. Jerome's Cat
St. Jerome in his study kept a great big cat,
it's always in his pictures, with its feet upon the mat.
Did he give it milk to drink, in a little dish?
When it came to Friday's, did he give it fish?
If I lost my little cat, I'd be sad without it;
I should ask St. Jerome what to do about it.
I should ask St. Jerome, just because of that,
for he's the only saint I know who kept a kitty cat.
Anonymous
Ode to Spot
Felix Catus, is your taxonomic nomenclature,
an endothermic quadruped carnivorous by nature?
Your visual, olfactory and auditory senses
contribute to your hunting skills, and natural defenses.
I find myself intrigued by your subvocal oscillations,
a singular development of cat communications
that obviates your basic hedonistic predilection
for a rhythmic stroking of your fur, to demonstrate affection.
A tail is quite essential for your acrobatic talents;
you would not be so agile if you lacked its counterbalance.
And when not being utilized to aide in locomotion,
it often serves to illustrate the state of your emotion.
O Spot, the complex levels of behaviour you display
connote a fairly well-developed cognitive array.
And though you are not sentient, Spot, and do not comprehend,
I nonetheless consider you a true and valued friend.
By Commander Data - United Federation of Planets
Five Little Eyes
In Hans' old mill his three black cats
watch his bins for the thieving rats.
Whisker and claw, they crouch in the night,
their five eyes smouldering green and bright.
Squeaks from the flour sacks, squeaks from where.
The cold wind stirs on the empty stair,
squeaking and scampering, everywhere.
Then down they pounce, now in, now out,
at whisking tail, and sniffing snout.
While lean old Hans he snores away,
till peep of light at break of day.
Then up he climbs to his creaking mill,
out come his cats all grey with meal.
Jekkel, and Jessup, and one-eyed Jill.
Walter (John) De La Mare (1873-1956)
'Tis Lonely Here In Prison
'Tis lonely here in prison,
I dream of sun, of fields,
I saw them from a window once,
but I don't know how they feel.
I've never known a caress,
a friend, a bone, a toy,
I'd happily companion,
a human girl or boy.
But some men have decided,
with selfishness and greed,
that my fate shall be a cage,
and for my keep, I'll breed.
What should fuel this folly?
My kind may bark in vain.
We care not for your commerce,
and few know of our pain.
We're hidden well from justice,
for our freedom some may cry.
God grant me, please, just one request -
Let me play once before I die.
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